Patrick Keenan

Till you spoke to me
I never knew how lonely I could be
I had heard my own voice
asking and answering myself
...

Come all you who earn your burn
Whose lives depend on the favors of man
This damp night air
It don't care
...

These are not the family men
Taken to thinking of when
Nah, these guys are wound up
from beginning to end of now
...

Music don't get old
& sit on benches
showing photographs
...

Come on in
the room

Ah, don't stare so
...

sitting and waiting for your voice
the silence and I are patient
your voice is always worth the wait
and the possibility of your warm laughter
...

look from the middle out
to see the days lengthen into Spring
Noon get rounder and rounder
a peak to a slope to a plain
...

new meant
with hope and intent

bearing grin not grim
...

I was there
that afternoon
when John Flynn
didn't have it anymore
...

I might not be here
but if you listen
in the morning mist
you can hear quite clear
...

that Sunday afternoon
to explain to you
some of
my boytown Brooklyn
...

First,
That I was beast

Then,
...

Leaving the graveyard
her voice tells me
keep a smile afoot
it will ease your steps away from losing me
...

No merrily round the bases today
Tho this November day
is May warm & calm
...

It's been a good day for saxophones
and for saxophonists

The air just muggy enough
...

A lot of it's scar tissue
and that's always
strong stuff
...

When we fill in the blanks
of long ago
We should allow space
for parentheses
...

I'm an old man who sits alone
with nothing no one in his hands to hold

All is held inside my head
...